Bus 2
by The Raven3
Summary: A marching band tale, loosely based on my experiences. Language and sexual references. Please review - and enjoy!!


Bus #2 A marching band tale loosely based on my experiences (and nothing like Drumline). I changed the names of all the characters, including my own (which is that of the main character). That is my only disclaimer -- enjoy!  
  
Chapter 1  
  
I woke up at 7:30, falling out of my bed. A loud thud awakened my brother, who startled the cat, who took off down the stairs. "Man, frickin' pre.pre-preweek. I never get any sleep." I mumbled, face flat on the floor. Drool was dripping down the sides of my mouth. I looked terrible; at least, I thought I did. I always feel terrible in the mornings. "SIMON! WAKE UP! YOU GOT REHEARSAL AT 9 O'CLOCK SHARP!" my mom yelled up the stairs. She was my alarm clock; like a siren of some kind. Half the time I couldn't understand what she said because it was too early. I was too busy trying to go back to sleep to even think of getting up. The thought of rehearsal brought dread to my stomach and a dead weight to my heart. My last year. My senior year. Yikes, I thought to myself. Time flies; I hardly remember last year. The again, last year stunk, so why would I want to? I slowly crawled to my feet, grabbing some clean clothes and my glasses. It was now about five to eight. "Ha.eight to five", I said, thinking of marching band. I plodded downstairs, like it was the morning death march. The steam from the recently vacated bathroom woke me up a little. Looked like Darren had actually taken a shower less then half an hour. "Impressive, for the slob", I mumbled, grabbing a towel out of the closet. My mom was saying something to me, but I couldn't make a damn thing out of it. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with me being in my boxers and nothing else. Esh.whatever. I jumped in the shower.  
  
I rolled into the parking lot at about 8:45. Well, at least I think it was 8:45. Man, I wish I had a clock in this piece of junk. My 1985 Chevette is basically and engine with wheels; nothing more, but probably much less. I pulled next to this white Pontiac or something. I wasn't good with perception in the mornings, or any time before noon. "Whose car is that?" asked Darren. I looked over at it, trying to see anything that would help me out. "Well, shit, I don't know. Maybe someone got his or her license over the summer. I don't know." Apparently, he didn't like my smart-ass answer. We lugged our instruments down to the band room, which had only a few people in it. No one was even in the hallway outside. "Weird; where is everyone?" I asked out loud, looking around the room. At least I recognized all the faces. First, there was Jason. We called him Wikka, because of his last name - Wywick. He was kind of a pudgy fellow, jolly in his ways. He was kind of like the chubby guy in all those heroic stories, the one who laughs all the time. Like the friar in Robin Hood. Only, he was more of the pirate type. He loved pirates, and he made sure you knew it. He had a kind of crew cut that reminded you of pirates. I don't know how, but it did. Then, there was Mary. She was kind of like the sister I never had; sometimes the mother when my mom wasn't around. There wasn't really anything outstanding about her looks, other then the fact that there wasn't anything bad to look at. She could light up a room, though. I always knew her as a smart girl, one who knew when and how to have fun, when to speak and what to say. I could trust her, like all my friends, and that's what counted. Next was Belle, an ex-crush of mine. Well, I dunno about the Ex part. I'm not really over any girl yet. She had beautiful red hair and sparkling eyes. You had to be blind or stupid not to see her. She was quirky, though, but a smart one nonetheless. Must be a lady thing. She was going to be a drum major this year, which should be interesting. Her friend Karen sat next to her, talking to her like always. The two of them always talked, beautiful to beautiful, girl to girl.so many different levels. She was a petite kind of girl, a brainiac, a ballerina, and a great clarinetist.there was nothing she couldn't do. Add a great personality to the mix, and it's almost too much to take in. Ok, back to reality. "Simon! What's up?" Jason said, waving his hands in the air. "Jason, man.not much. Just woke up, like always." I could tell I sounded, and probably even looked, like crap. Blech, I thought to myself. My mouth tastes like.toothpaste. "You ready for section leader duties this year?" "Oh, no doubt! Can we dress up like pirates for Section Dress-Up day?" he asked. I chuckled, trying not to drop my instrument case. "Yeah, but only if Mr. Freeman lets us. I don't know if we're doing it this year." "Oh man, that would be so cool. We could kidnap other sections and hold tem ransom! Then, we could loot Freeman's office!" His eyes were lit up like a little kid in a candy store. Jason was having a lot of fun with this idea of his, much like anything that has to do with pirates. Give him an eye patch, a sword, a peg leg, and a bit of leeway, and he could accomplish anything. "Yeah, but we'd have to do it without killin' people. Ya know, minor details like that." "Pshht, whatever," he said, jokingly. We walked back into the band room, putting our cases on chairs. We took out our alto saxophones as more people began filing into the cage room. "Ya know, this is scary, Jason: we play the same instrument, we're both section leaders, we have the same birthday.what else do we have in common?" "Too much." I laughed. "Yeah, I'd have to agree." "Come on guys, let's be the first ones out there!" Mary chimed in as she was leaving. We grabbed our instruments and headed out the doors. Our first practice was about to begin. 


End file.
